The Accountant Realized and Recognized A Slut Wife

by Keitaro

Desc: Sex Story: The classic tale of a man who comes home early from work to find his "loving" wife in bed with the sleazy neighbor.<br><i>My thanks to Walter Mitty for his request for me to redo his own story by the same title.</i>

(Created by Walter Mitty, Edited and rewritten by Keitaro)

Harry drove home. His shirt was wrinkled, his tie was pulled down, and his hair was an unruly mess. The server at his CPA office had gone down and he could not access his tax preparation program. His data were safe, but it would take the college kid, who worked for them, the rest of the day to get the software package backup. It seemed like NOTHING had gone right that day. That was the worst of the problems, true, but all in all, it had been an altogether unpleasant experience.

It had been so bad that he decided to call it a day and go home early. He sent everyone but the kid home. "Get a good night's sleep. We may be in here late tomorrow."

Harry sighed and pulled into the driveway. He walked slowly to the door, shivering from the unseasonably cold March day. He was looking forward to a warm shower and a nap before he ate supper. Maybe a little afternoon delight with his wife, Martha. It had been quite a while.

He entered his house, and was relieved by the rush of warm air that welcomed him. He flopped on the sofa and kicked off his shoes, smiling with that nice "ahhh" feeling that one can only get after a long day at work. Just then, however, he noticed the absence of his wife. Where could she be? "Martha?" he called. No response. Hoping nothing was wrong, he went to look for her.

He slowly walked to the bedroom. The door was shut, but he didn't think anything of it at the time. He turned the knob and pushed the door open. When the door was fully open, he was greeted with a horrible, heartbreaking sight. He felt like he had been hit in the stomach by a three hundred pound pulling guard. His wife was laying spreadeagled on the bed. Her long, chestnut-brown hair was blanketed underneath her heaving chest. Her face was contorted into a look of pleasure, her chocolate-brown eyes open wide, and her sweet lips puckered into a round O-shape. Her lewdly spread legs were facing directly towards him. And between those legs, He saw Herman George pumping away like there was no tomorrow, with his repulsive, hairy ass flopping like a fish out of water.

When he recovered his breath, he calmly, quietly extracted a camera from the closet on his left and snapped a picture. The flash got their attention. Harry, very calmly said, "Get out Herman, and take the slut with you. Be gone by the time I get back.". He then turned on his heel, and left.

Harry was devastated. Feeling the need to strike back, he did so using the only method he could come up with at the time. On the way out of the house, he took all the keys, credit cards and money from her purse. "That'll teach her," he muttered darkly to himself. Harry drove to the bank, withdrew all the money, and closed the account. He gave an 'I will not be responsible statement' to the bank and went to the brokerage office. He took all the money from the CMA account. He rolled over their brokerage account in to his and closed it. Now, He was primary on all the accounts and dropped her.

He dropped the film off at the attorney's and spoke with Bob, his long time friend, and told him everything. All the pain, misery, and heartbreak. Everything. Bob said, "Harry, don't you want to cool off and think about this?" He was nearly pleading, "Twelve years might warrant another chance."

Harry said, "I honestly wanted to kill her. I thought I loved her... and, well, I trusted her. But now, I want her out of the house with nothing. And I want that son-of-bitch, Herman George, sued and embarrassed."

"That would embarrass you, too. And then it will be harder for Martha to be able to come back. Do you want her to face the ridicule? I understand you are hurt, but this might be a bit much. And I don't think alienation suits get anywhere."

Harry snorted, "Please do it as quickly as possible. I'm hemorrhaging here."

When Harry got home, Martha, his wife of twelve years, was crying.

Harry said, "Slut, I told you to get out."

She looked up, and the eyes he had last seen shining with lust were red and puffy around the edges and glistening with unshed tears. "Please don't do this. Please, I beg you. I'm sorry. Please," she smarmily beseeched him, almost ready to throw herself to her knees.

Harry didn't listen.

Harry's attorney had boilerplate forms for this kind of thing. An hour after Harry returned, a deputy served Martha with divorce papers and a restraining order from taking any personal or real property. Through clenched teeth, Harry said, "Deputy, escort her from the house now please."

The deputy led the tear-streaked Martha from the house.

He said to her as the deputy guided her out, "Herman George. We used to laugh about how crude the slimy bastard's passes were."